Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo
by MoonDeity
Summary: This is the story of a Mary Sue whose name is too long to fit in this summary. How will she get unfeasibly tangled in Ed and Al's hearts and lives? What measures will we take to get her out? Read to find out, review to make me feel better. DONE.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_** _ I was inspired. I had to write a Mary Sue bashing fic. It just leapt. Into my soul. Like dance. Dance is in my soul. Anyway, do enjoy thyself. _

_**Disclaimer:** Full Metal Alchemist (Hagane No Renkinjitsu) is copywrite Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix Co., LTD, Funimation, Aniplex, BONES, and MBS, and is not the respective property of MoonDeity or any of her aliases. _

**_Summary:_** _This is a story of a Mary Sue whose name is too long to fit in this summary. How will she get unfeasibly tangled into Ed and Al's hearts and lives? What measures will we take to get her out? Read to find out, review to make me feel better._

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Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo

Chapter I: 

It Begins

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This is the story of a Mary Sue.

As all of these Mary-Sue bashing parody fics go, they usually start with declaring that the story is about a Mary Sue, something which normal OC fics do not, thus establishing that this is a parody.

If you will skim back two sentences, you will find this fact already written, so I'm off to a pretty good start.

This said Mary Sue, implanted magically and inexplicably within Amestris, has a ridiculously long name made up of beautiful and exotic parts.

Ready to hear it?

It's Isaura Naeva Csara Avari-Lluvia Chiali Efrosini Zitkalasa Akilina Avalbane.

This long name is a convenience, for she can pick any pretty-sounding name and introduce herself as said person, which makes it very nice to date four or five bishounens at one time and establishes a sense of secrecy to add to her already elevated sense of greatness.

For this Amestrian account of Isaura Naeva Csara Avari-Lluvia Chiali Efrosini Zitkalasa Akilina Avalbane, she has chosen to go by Csara Avalbane, which inexplicably retains to her sob story, considering Csara means "wanderer," despite the fact that she has a large well-furnished apartment thanks to her multiple pay checks from the State Alchemists, as a opera singer, a corporate icon, a mafia gangstress, an authoritive essay writer and bikini model.

Now, to start this story, we shall need to include an incredibly detailed account of her outfit. As a Mary Sue, Csara has an utterly freakish apparel, due to the fact that she is an "individual" and privileged by the gods, which we will now begin to describe in a horribly written paragraph that shatters all good boundaries of literary style.

_Csara-chan-sama-sensei wears an skin-teight jump suit over her skin 'cause she has a hawt bawd and thatz fizzlin' lol!1! She has a loin-cloth-type-dress-thingy and its blu and silver and sparklez and swishes leik water at her every shmexy move. She haz size Q cup breasts cause theyre so big they don't have a size, omg LOL!1! Theyre all swished and hanging out and her hair is down 2 the floor and its silver and pink and gold streaks on the end 'cause shes three parts goddess and half wolf, so she has wolf ears 2. But sinz her 2 ed coisin waz a peacock and so she has that peacock tail thingy dragging down to the floor and she has healing powders in it 2. Csara-chan has pretty sapphire eyes but sometimes they have silver flecks and on a special solstace they turn to green and then purple when she's angry and her hair turns red when shes angry 2. She has gloves with fingers on every 1 except her middle finger that's because she has special powers and if she flicks it at them they go BOOM1! LOL, OMG, I LIKE PIE ROFLKMJLSKTOOPOO!1 _

Sssshhh…if you listen really closely, you can hear Steinbeck and Tolstoy turning in their graves…

Now, in any normal society, this freakish apparel would undoubtedly be rejected, and said person would be kicked, beat over the head with a fossil, thrown in the gutter and yelled at to go back to college and get a real job so you can stop dressing like an cheap slut and make your mom proud and maybe you could come home for Christmas once every five years and maybe get that deer out of the basement?

But no. Csara is privileged, like we already cleared. She gets to wear this outfit, and not be called a whore, and in fact, every man she passes has to turn around and stare at her sexy, perfectly formed butt.

Which causes a lot of superfluous deliberation between whomever she's dating at the time and the spectators. Usually the men that she dates are unnecessarily powerful, thus resulting in deaths, and a baffling decrease in the human population. _Finally…_

But as we deliberate on the exterior appearance of a Mary Sue (hell, that's pretty much 99.9 percent of their make up), we need to discuss further how SPECIAL Csara is.

She is so special, that her height mystically changes, enabling her to be at kissing height for whichever anime bishounen she might be dating at the time—from Sesshoumaru to little Chrono, from Mustang to Hiei.

And her body is obviously a sheer magnificence that even the most gifted Greek sculptors could not mimic with a mere chisel and slab of MARBLE! No! Artists have tried for centuries (she's immortal like that) to capture her radiance, but no medium is good enough! Men have been driven insane by her intoxicating aura, trying to capture it on canvas, trying to put it into words!

If only they'd discovered the repugnantly written outfit describer paragraph.

Csara's personality is a flawless gem of perfection, enabling all to feel comfortable and attracted to her. She's outgoing yet secretive, angstful yet funny, kind yet badass, strong yet needs the protection of a hot male character, bold yet cutely timid.

Her voice is like the ringing of a thousand bells and sweet throated nightingales, her hands made of the smoothest silk, her lips like rubies and her step not too loud and not too soft and she always knows the right thing to say no matter what the circumstance or how deeply we will her to screw up.

Csara lives in Central, in a sleek penthouse in which she keeps a wolf, a tiger, and a hawk, and manages not to distract the neighbors. The Fullmetal Alchemist, our hero and victim, all his male accomplices, live within the perimeter of Csara's influence.

And here is where our story begins.

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_**A/N:** cracks knuckles Ready for this? _


	2. SlowMo

_**A/N:** I can't really say I like Csara. I really don't. ASPITO here hates her. _

_**Aspito**: She stole my peacock feather look. Hate her. Kill her. _

_**A/N:** After a few more chapters, you CAN. Maybe even the **reviewers** will get to play a part in the climax… _

_**Disclaimer:** Full Metal Alchemist (Hagane No Renkinjitsu) is copywrite Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix Co., LTD, Funimation, Aniplex, BONES, and MBS, and is not the respective property of MoonDeity or any of her aliases. _

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Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo 

Chapter II: 

"Slow-Mo"

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Now, as all good romance stories go, they usually begin with a bright and breezy summer day, finches warbling, and sun shining in its zenith. This is not a good romance story.

The day was bleak, miserable, and utterly torturous to the angstful. It was pouring down rain, sleet, and hail, the clouds were ink black above, it was cold enough to see your breath and piss your name in the snow.

To make matters worse, this was during flu season, the heater was busted in the Central command, and everyone was sniffling and sneezing and coughing inside the freezing office. The people of the military and of the town were horribly wet, chilled to the bone, sick as dogs, and outright miserable.

Except for this guy.

He's happy.

See him driving his truck? He wears a red plaid shirt underneath overalls and a trucker's hat, and he's puttering around town with a pick up truck full of corn. Why is he here, and where is he from?

The corn trucker is from Indiana. If you'll look on a map or a globe or in an atlas, you will find a state shaped like a sock in between mitten Michigan and Tennessee that looks like a wood splinter.

This is Indiana.

If you ever drove through it, you'll have probably fallen asleep, or gone insane from claustrophobia—corn walls you in on all sides. If you've skirted the boarder, you would've noticed how on your side, it's amiably flat with grass.

Looming over on the Indiana side…is corn. Like a gigantic jungle permeating deep into unknown territory, it frightened away the first settlers crossing the Ohio River, and remained recently undiscovered until the far-off year of 2005 A.D.

Why is he happy? Because, dear reader, of the corn. Corn, as we all know, is the reason we have cars, buildings, electricity, and dogs. Corn is the life-blood of the earth, space, and flowed through the veins of Jesus.

Wasn't bread he broke at the last supper. No. Corn.

Since corn is so vital to society in every single way, please take a moment to scrutinize the following phrase:

_Are you feeling forlorn? _

_Then eat some corn. _

_Is your world full of scorn? _

_Then eat some corn. _

_Are you sitting around regretting the day you were born? _

_Then eat some corn. _

If Homer of Greece had known this phrase long ago, he would not be confused with that doughnut munching zhlub we see on Fox.

With this in mind, it cannot be very hard to guess why the corn trucker was here in town. For in Amestris, it is not every day you see a sunshiny hick driving through town, whistling to "Weird Al Yankovic" on the radio, and plotting how he's going to get past the highway weight stations. No, Corn Trucker was here to drive out the forlornness, bring joy, and have the people of Central indulge IN CORN!

_Pop! _

_Fffffssssshhhhh…. _

What was that?

Oh, gasp, the corn trucker's tire has mysteriously gone flat! He's having trouble controlling his truck on the slick road! Oh, god, corn is going everywhere! His brakes are screeching, he's turning the wheel frantically! He's going off the side of the road! Oh, god! No, not the cow!

_CRASH! _

The corn trucker's trucking corn truck has smashed into the side of a building, burning corn littering everywhere. A charred pair of overalls flutters from the air, and lands ceremoniously on the dented hood. Then, it explodes into a fiery burst of atomic flame.

Damn.

There goes the corn trucker.

But wait! A mystery is afoot! Who could've slashed the corn trucker's tire, causing him to swerve off the road and spill the precious commodity? Le gasp twice! Csara is walking leniently down the street, her magical middle finger…slightly smoking? SCANDELOUS!

For you see, Csara does not want a mindless hick from Indiana to bring healing about to Central. She does not want the chilled alchemists to feast upon delectable roast corn. No! She wants to hog all the healing for herself, therefore exalting and making herself a goddess in all their eyes. MORONIC IMMORAL FEINT!

Now that the corn trucker was out of the picture, Csara was able to walk down the street and remain the center of attention. Every person she passed, she emitted a wave of warmth and comfort, causing suffering rheumy-eyed men to stop and stare.

As coincidence (or maybe conspiracy) had it, the Full Metal Alchemist Edward Elric was walking down the street in the opposite direction to Csara.

Ed was suffering from a cold as the rest of the others, chills racking his body and suffering from having to stop and sneeze wetly into the side of his sleeve. Freezing and miserable, he really envied Al, anchored to steel as he was, could not feel the cold. His coat was sopping wet, and he really was starting to look like a dog of the military, a wet and shivering one, at that.

Now Csara had spotted her prey. A trembling individual, looking for comfort, sick and feverish, and devilishly handsome. All. Too. Perfect. It was time to work her Mary Sue magic.

As she glided down the street toward him, his eyes, so sick and tired, looked up to behold her face, and they widened. She was shimmering, radiant, with sparkling little lights and fairies surrounding her dazzling face. He stopped in his tracks, let his jaw go slack, and stared as her face glimmered and glittered, and everything _sloooooooooooooweeeedd _down.

Yeah.

This is what happens when annoying girls make an obnoxious entrance and everything stops so we can all notice how freaking pretty they look.

In this case, where everything about Csara is overdone, this slow motion is…incredibly slow. Like insanely slow. She's not even finished with a step. See? Look at that…Jesus. How self-absorbed can you be?

What a crock of crap this is.

We're going to be here a while.

As this was going on, a guy who inexplicably didn't get sick, and who was walking next to Ed and Al on the street, suddenly looked up and noticed that the rain wasn't hitting his face as hard as usual.

_Hm,_ he thought, staring up at the slow moving raindrops, and not noticing Csara and Ed as her hair flipped out magically from the base of her neck. _It's like that wigger McDonald's commercial I saw the other day. Dude! Slo-mo! Spankin'! _

He started to move and experiment with this new feat of motion. _Like, it's on the movie Clockstoppers! Or Clockwatchers? Oh, this is awesome! I can, like, jump up and swim through the air! I've always wanted to do that! _

The guy now proceeded to leap up in the air. When he didn't crash down to the ground, he began to mimic the free-style stroke, his limbs moving comically as if they had heavy weights tied to them. He was floating in midair paddling like some sort of retarded beagle, as Csara brushed past Ed with her sparkles.

Then, all in one sudden moment, time was restored, Csara shot past Edward, Ed's neck snapped around and he slammed face-first into a stop sign, and the guy fell to the pavement with a _bam!_, and laid there facedown.

But no one paid any attention to him, as Csara turned majestically and noticed Ed clutching his nose and whimpering.

"Oh, my, are you alright, sir?" her voice, so beautiful that people raised their heads and looked for the source, reached Ed's ears and made him feel warm in his tummy. Quite unlike the warmth he experienced after eating Mustang's cooking.

Csara flounced over to him and helped him stop the bleeding in his nose. Of course, this took no time at all, seeing how she was special and healing and whatnot. As she was finished, Ed looked into her sparkling eyes and felt the breath be sucked out of his lungs.

"Hello," Csara smiled sexily in a way that made the sun come out. "My name is Csara. Are you that deviously hunky alchemist they call Edward Elric, who is one of the tallest men in Central and the smartest?"

Well, as we all know, this would win Ed over in an instant like Rome wins over Greece any day. Ed smiled stupidly, took her by the shoulders, and flung her into a passionate kiss that surprisingly wasn't that well executed. I'd think Ed could French better, but apparently not.

After he was done, Csara gave a half-hearted smile, and hoped he would be better in bed. Ed put his arm around her, felt his cold instantly ebb away, and walked with her down the street headed toward the Central Military Headquarters.

Now hold the phone! Something is amiss! Where is Alphonse? Abandoned and standing alone in the rain, poor baby. His hands were folded and he was waiting politely for Ed to finish his business with Csara, and then he just winged off and LEFT HIM! NEGLIGENT UNJUSTIFIABLE SITUATION!

Now that Csara has Edward in her clutches, and headed toward the Central headquarters, what will happen to Alphonse standing alone and unsupervised on Central's streets? What will happen when Csara gets exposed to Roy Mustang and the other members of the military? Is the corn trucker really dead?

Find out on the next episode of Record of Mary Sue War! I will fight to exterminate the Mary Sue with all my life!

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_**A/N:** For those who didn't get the closing joke, that's what Parn says on every episode preview of the 13-episode anime Record of Lodoss War. It sounds really cheesy every time, and it just made me laugh. _

_Original was, "I will fight to defend Lodoss with all my life!" _

…_yeah, that was pretty lame._


	3. Of Euchre and Blueberries

_**A/N:** Wow. Amazing, amazing response to everything. I really gotta thank you, I was not feeling confident that this piece would take off at all. :glomps AuroranWings, Blonde Hurricane, and Yunaberrie: Intelligent reviews too, by the way. _

_**Disclaimer:** Full Metal Alchemist (Hagane No Renkinjitsu) is copywrite Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix Co., LTD, Funimation, Aniplex, BONES, and MBS, and is not the respective property of MoonDeity or any of her aliases. _

_**Warning:** The following expert contains what could be interpreted as raciest comedy. If your mind is not currently open, either open it, or turn away right now. All flames concerning this subject will be used to burn the flamers who sent them. **YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.** _

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Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo

Chapter III: 

Of Euchre and Blueberries

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As they were walking toward headquarters, Csara and Edward were making out. Now, this requires considerable skill, for to walk and tongue wrestle at the same time is practically as difficult as replacing an ink cartridge or teaching a man from Terre Haute to drive a stick shift.

It's like walking and chewing gum, except they were walking and swapping saliva. But, miraculously, they were doing it, and we aren't going to dwell on this subject any longer for mentality reasons.

As they were walking, an Egyptian lumberjack happened across their path.

Much like the corn trucker and the guy who was swimming freestyle when the world slowed down, said Egyptian lumberjack was without the flu and not enraptured by Csara's aura. He wore a quaint maroon fez and an axe in the shape on an ankh was swung over his shoulder. As he walked, he whistled snatches of the soundtrack from The Mummy Returns.

When he saw Edward and Csara walking toward him, he stopped, stared in wonder, and pushed his fez off his forehead with his thumb.

"Oh by the breast of Bastet," he muttered. "This is bad."

Edward and Csara approached the Egyptian lumberjack, not noticing how a man from Giza could make a living chopping trees.

"You there!" he shouted, pointing his ankh-axe toward them. Csara and Ed stopped, still interlocked, and stared at the curious man.

"You bode badly and bring plagues about to the land!" he said, waving his arms wildly. "Like the hippopotamus that dwells in the river, you fat and groaning! The desert winds are like your dry breath, crumbing this city and all it touches! I really like your ass, it looks like blueberry pie."

At that random comment, Csara shrieked femininely and swung the nearest mailbox at the lumberjack, sending him flying into the street and clobbering into a Dungeons and Dragons tournament, leaving him to the horrible fate of being suffocated by cosplayers and three-million sided die.

Unfortunately, this only made Ed like the Mary Sue more, and began to make out more vigorously as they resumed their walk.

BUT!

Unbeknownst to them, but beknownst to us, the goddess Isis and Paul Bunyan were watching furtively from the Realm of the Gods somewhere in New Mexico.

"Damn that infernal hominid!" Isis said, raising her holy fist that was quivering in holy rage.

"You got that right, slap-stick," Paul said, noting how badly Edward could kiss. "Those pants totally make his ass look fat."

"I don't care about his corpulent ass!" Isis snarled, rounding on the legendary woodcutter. "That Umpah-Loompah slut just KILLED an Egyptian! Killing an Egyptian is nearly as bad as killing an Italian or a Scot!"

"What about a Korean?" Paul asked over his booze.

"Nobody loves the Koreans," Isis spat, stomping over to the Terra-view Screen.

"You're just pissed because King Hwan-In whopped your ass in euchre last solstice," Paul said smiling.

"Shut up or I'll shut you down," growled the fertility goddess, knowing it was true, and picked up her Moto razor. "You should be equally enraged, considering it was a lumberjack that she just threw into a crowd of geeks."

"Yeah…" Paul sighed benignly. "So, what're you going to do about it…?"

Isis cupped her hand around the mouthpiece of her cell phone.

"Going to send someone in," she mumbled, and brightened up when she got a dial tone.

After a few rings, a speakerphone lit on, and somewhere in the background, Franz Ferdinand was blaring over the staticky connection.

"Whaaaaa…..?"

"Cyn!" Isis snapped into the phone. "Get up already, it's 2 friggin o'clock!"

The sleepy person on the other end mumbled something and threw an object at the phone.

"Go 'way…" they slurred. Isis sighed.

"Listen, Cyn, I need you to make a call."

The person on the other end seemed to be vaguely interested.

"To…?"

"You know very well who."

"Wait." The sheets rustled as the person sat up. "You want me to send someone from Heaven? To where?"

"Amestris," Isis said matter-of-factly. "Central City, to be exact."

"Just…'

"From Heaven? No, I also want someone from the NAW corporation, Mars, and…"

"Oh. FINE! Gawsh, frigging…." The person was irritated.   
"Why can't you do this, Isis?"

"Because it's a Mary Sue."

There was silence on the other end.

"I'll make the call."

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Meanwhile, back in Central, Ed and Csara had arrived at headquarters. Holding her hand in his, Ed led her through the maze of corridors, and burst into Mustang's office. The Flame Colonel looked up , and it was perceptible by his expression that Edward Elric was not the person he wanted to see.

"What do you want, Ed?" he asked irately. "Me and Hawkeye were totally cuddling."

True enough, the lieutenant sat on Roy's lap with her arms around his neck, a testament to the total powerlessness a fanfic writer has to the whims of her RoyRiza shippers.

Ed grinned wildly, not hearing.

"Hey, Mustang, guess what? This is Csara and she's really pretty and her boobs are big and she's an alchemist/bikini model/writer and she thinks I'm tall and we're totally in love and we're going to Resembol to get married so I can't go on that one mission you gave me about rescuing war orphans from a burning gasoline factory."

Roy raised an eyebrow.

"And you met her when…?"

"About fifteen minutes ago, out on the street."

Roy and Riza did reverse facefaults, crashed upwards through the ceiling, past the moon, to the Realm of the Gods, and disconnected the phone line Cyn was using to make her call. They landed at the feet of the Egyptian lumberjack and were teleported back to Central with fezzes and a new perception of reality.

They sat down again in their old positions as if nothing had changed.

"Now Edward," Riza said cautiously. "Maybe you should take this relationship slowly. You're far to young to get married, and—"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE COULD FIT BETWEEN THE RIDGES OF A CORN COB AND BE PRESSED AND MADE INTO CORN OIL TO FUEL THE CARS OF THE FUTURE?"

Edward spazzed out so violently that he released gamma-waves which traveled to the Realm and disrupted Cyn's call which she was now trying to make via cell phone.

As cartoonish little smokestacks flowed from his ears, Ed stomped out with Csara.

"Come on! We are SO out of here, baby!"

Riza and Roy were left staring blankly at the door. Dante Alighieri, who was sitting in the corner and somehow unnoticed throughout this whole scene for the sake of plot twists, sipped a tea cup full of root beer and commented,

"Rome is better."

This pretty much resolved the all that passed, for Roy agreed, Riza agreed, Dante agreed, the root beer agreed too, and so did Roy's stalker. Roy lit a warm fire and there were happy feelings floating around as a cheesy tune started to play, and they all laughed sociably and discussed what was up with Virgil and Beatrice these days.

Meanwhile, though, Csara and Edward were cuddling up on a train heading straight for Resembol!

HOW on earth will Winry react to the news that Ed is engaged to a woman who only met less than 24 hours ago?

Where the HECK is Alphonse?

WHO is Cyn and whom did she call?

WILL Isis ever beat King Hwan-In at euchre?

And WHAT is up with Virgil and Beatrice these days?

Tune into the latest pointless episode of Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo!

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_**A/N:** Hey, did you all know there's such a thing as botanomancy? It's divination through leaves. People in the 19th century wrote stuff on leaves and left them outside in the wind—the way the breeze scattered the leaves was construed as a message. Pretty wild._


	4. Alphonse's Adventure

_**A/N:** A reviewer came up with an interesting point about the botomancy. Does reading tea leaves stem from it? Is there an occult specialist in the house that can answer this?_

_**Disclaimer:** Full Metal Alchemist (Hagane No Renkinjitsu) is copywrite Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix Co., LTD, Funimation, Aniplex, BONES, and MBS, and is not the respective property of MoonDeity or any of her aliases. _

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Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo 

Chapter IV: 

Alphonse's Adventure

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There is a certain word applied to the English language called "boondocks".

_Bundok_ is the word for mountain in Tagalog, the Indonesian language of the Philippines, and as the US occupied the place, _bundok_ was shortened to _boondocks_, to mean the name for difficult terrain on the fringes of training camps. Nowadays it refers to the expressions "out in the rough" or "out in the sticks."

Alphonse was certainly out in the boondocks that cold wet afternoon, as his older brother had ditched him for a thespian Lolita. It took him several hours of standing in the same exact place before he realized that Ed wasn't coming back.

"Bugger," he said out loud to no one in particular. "What do I do now?"

Now, as we know, Alphonse is a very mischievous suit of armor that cannot be left alone for a second without wrecking some sort of havoc on the living world. Sure, he puts up a neat little façade of being a placid boy, but in reality, he treasures the moments he has where he can be the EVIL AND DEMONIC FEIND WHICH RESIDES DEEP DOWN WITHIN!

That was supposed to be said in a hellish, echoing voice, by the way.

Now, as he was thinking of what to do with his evil and demonically fiendish free time, it crossed his mind that Ed was somewhere with a strange and scantily clad woman.

"I'd better go help him, though," he said, sighing and cursing underneath his breath about the burdens of siblings and how he was going to ditch Ed in a dumpster once he got his body back. "But where to start?"

Astonishingly, almost as if on enigmatic cue, a little rapping was heard within his chest plate, and seemed to come inside his armor.

"Eh?"

The rapping turned louder into pounding, and Alphonse started to giggle. There was a profuse amount of rapid spasmodic banging, and then, his chest plate burst off, Alphonse laughing hysterically, and out of his chest flew…a girl.

A young woman to be more exact, she landed face first on the cement, did two somersaults, and landed on her butt with her legs splayed out blinking up at the large hollow piece of armor.

Alphonse, if he had a mouth, gaped.

"Whe-where did you…who are—why…"

The young woman yawned, inserted a pinky inside her ear, twisted it counter clockwise, and got up. Standing up, Alphonse could see her strange attire, for her body was covered in a leather suit riddled with pockets, pouches, and she wore a large sword on her back. She opened her mouth, and it a strangely Germanic-Yiddish accent said,

"Hi," and handed his chest plate back to him.

Alphonse took it and re-attached it dazedly.

"Sorry 'bout that, chum. I've stayed in there longer, but it was getting kinda cramped with all those cats."

Pointedly, a small black kitten poked its head out from underneath Al's helmet and mewed.

"HOW THE HECK DID YOU GET INSIDE ME!"

The girl was looking around and jumping slightly on her high-heeled boots. She looked up with question marks in her eyes.

"Huh?"

Alphonse sighed irately.

"Never mind. Look, aren't you cold, or something?"

The girl blinked.

"No. But let's go into that strange little store over there, they have gourds in their window. I really like gourds, they remind me of tumors. Tumors are fun to lick. Have you ever licked a tumor? I have, they're all round and pulsating and—"

Alphonse shuddered and took the babbling young woman by the wrist and led her inside the store with the gourds, which was actually a coffee house. He set her down at the table, knocked out the guy at the cappuccino machine, and made his extra special Kitty-Mochas for the both of them.

He rammed a scone in her mouth, and sat down across from her.

"First," he said slowly as she attempted to chew the pastry, drool running down her chin. "Tell me who you are."

The girl swallowed the scone whole, and said, "Dru."

"D-R-E-W?"

"No. D-R-U. Dru is Dru."

"Uh-huh. And where is Dru from, and how did Dru get inside me?"

Dru was attempting to drink her mocha without the use of her hands by nosing it across the table.

"Dru is from a village called Wilhelmia, not of this land."

She succeeded in knocking the coffee off the table. Al gave her his (he can't really drink it, can he?).

"Dru got called in. Dru was summoned here. Dru rode around in your chest for a while because it was warm and dry and smelled like Cheetos."

Dru planted her face abruptly in the coffee, forming a vacuum seal, and lifted it up with the mocha dripping off around the rims.

"Dru…is an Alchemist."

Alphonse fell over and at that same moment, Dru's mocha was siphoned off her face and fell in her lap. She smiled dumbly.

Al stood up and raised his eyebrow.

"Alchemist."

Dru licked the mocha off her nose and nodded.

Alphonse stared a while at the curious creature, and decided to use her knowledge to his advantage. Either she truly was from another world, or she was insane. Little did he know, it was both.

"Ookaay…if you're an Alchemist, tell me how to forge a Philosopher's stone."

"A Philosopher's stone? You mean these?"

Dru held up a pendant from her chest, a necklace wrought with dragons and swords encasing medium sized red stones. Al, if only he really could, gaped.

"Yeah, we call 'em catalyst stones from where I come," she said distractedly. "They're family heirlooms, and they really help in boosting your transmutations."

Al's mind was whirling.

"With those…I could get my body back…real flesh and blood…"

"Oh, I know how to get your body back," Dru interjected. Alphonse stared at her.

"You do?"

"Sure," she said, and removed his helmet. "Just take your armor off."

Just as she said, the tufty head of 15-year old Alphonse Elric poked up over the rim of the armor. "Eh?" he said, and shed the remaining pieces of armor to reveal a body that had been inside the steel all along. "Well, that was easy."

"Damn straight it was," said Dru, eating the contents of his chalk bag. Alphonse, restored to his natural form even though he was never changed at all, a mystery that will probably never be explained, sat down across from her.

"You seem to know a lot," he said cautiously. "What else can you tell me…?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, we are going to take a rest from the distractions in the lives of FMA's main characters to view the life of the petty antagonist we know as Scar.

Scar, of course, is a loser.

He never really got anywhere with his serial killing spree, abandoned it abruptly once he found some kids in a sewer, and was forced to live with his retarded hippie brother for most of his life. Why he hasn't drowned himself in the toilet is way beyond me.

Now, Scar is a sad, sad man. He has to live in a stupid tent with some stupid Ishbalans, with his stupid scarred face and no one really knowing his real name. His tattoo is also really unattractive.

Now, as he was sitting dejectedly in the filth that covered the refugee camp, it dawned upon him that he needed a woman to make him happy.

A woman or a dog.

But where could he get a woman or a dog in this malodorous encampment? He supposed he could dress up one of those dorky kids in drag and a Wishbone suit, but that wouldn't really give him the kind of satisfaction men crave.

Now, as coincidence (or conspiracy) had it, Cyn, our reticent divine telephone operative, was heading up the path to Scar's campsite, yapping on her cell phone. We haven't really given insight to Cyn, have we?

Cyn, as outlandish as this may sound, is a Martian. Martians, though, are not the green slimy skinned bulbous eyed amphibious creatures of cartoons.

No, Martians look remarkably like humans, except that they have coal black skin, not like African Americans, but black, black, jet-black ebony skin. Many have odd hair or eye colorings due to the various mineral deposits in their air and water. Cyn, as an example, has silver eyes and grey and silver streaks in her hair.

Why is Cyn here, why is she talking to Earthen gods, and why the hell does she get a cell phone when you still have to use a cruddy old pay phone?

Probably because you don't listen to Franz Ferdinand, or sleep until 2:00, or make calls for all-powerful ancient gods living in New Mexico, which also inexplicably happens to be located past the moon, if you read the part about Roy and Riza's reverse face faults very carefully.

Now, as she was walking up this path, Cyn was getting yelled at by the other line on her Moto razor.

"What? WHAAAAT!" the voice was so loud and squawky Cyn had to pull her dark ear away. "Why the bloody frig did you send DRU in? Dru! THE Dru!"

"Well, I thought it was a good idea…" Cyn said meekly. The voice cut in.

"DRU is STUPID!" they exclaimed. "Dru is the one who can't be allowed inside the library because she EATS all the BOOKS! Dru is the one who mistakenly blew the Styx River out of the ground! Dru is the one who wrapped herself in an electric blanket and ran through the Vatican screaming things about raping bumblebees and pigeon pogo sticks! DON'T TELL ME IT WAS A GOOD IDEA!"

"But Isis…" Cyn whined to the goddess on the other end. "She's the best Alchemist we have from the other world. I thought she might fit in…"

"Shut up," Isis clipped from the other end. "Shut your stupid Martian mouth. From now on, you tell me who you're going to assign to take eradication responsibilities for a Mary Sue. You might have aberrant tri-dimensional contacts, but that isn't the reason for picking a imbecile to head an extermination."

"You forget, Isis," Cyn said icily. "That she's not the only one arriving on the scene."

There was silence on the other end.

"Who else did you send in?" she finally said, a tinge of worry inking across her voice. Cyn smiled.

"You'll have to seee…." She said in a singsong manner.

"What! What's that supposed to mean! Cyn, do not hang up this phone until you tell me! Cyn—"

Cyn pushed the off button and stuffed the cell inside her bra. She now skipped up in her Martian way up the rocky mountain path, singing the theme from War of the Worlds, a goofy grin plastered on her black face.

Oh, life was pleasant when she could hang up on Isis and leave her without options to deal with her. Too many times had she been struck by lightening when she'd hung up on the gods. Zeus, Yahweh, Shiva, you name it, man, she'd have been hit by it. She often relished these times when she could go on location and dance around in whichever world they were liberating first.

She halted at a small cliff overlooking a precipice. Plunging sharply below her was the lush green valleys of Amestrian rural countryside. She breathed in the mountain air, and hacked at the over abundance of oxygen.

Now, as fate would have it Scar was walking along the path above her, when her choking drew his attention down to her.

He almost soiled his pants.

There she was, that slim figure, that dark-as-night skin, that silver hair, those strange robes, that deadly looking blaster at her waist! Now this was his ideal woman! In a fit of desperation, Scar flung himself down from his high perch…and completely latched onto the unsuspecting Cyn.

"OHMYFUCKINGGOD, WHAT THE FUSTY JAKING HELL!"

Cyn hollered and whirled her arms like pinwheels, tottered precariously at the edge of the cliff, and stepped backward to run around in circles with Scar clinging to her back.

"Oh atypical woman of incongruity!" Scar cuddled onto her back. "Your aberration is most charming and sexy to me! Come with me, so we may make luuuvvvvv in my filthy tent!"

"AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHH!" Cyn's scream reached all the way to the realm of the gods, but Isis heard and didn't heed because she was still pissed at her for hanging up the cell phone. "GEEERRROOFFF MEEE! BLOODY TRIPODS, GET OFF ME!"

Cyn tripped and rolled in the dirt, leapt up, and unsheathed a long piece of Italian baguette from within her robes. With this, she whacked Scar in the head, unlatched him from her back, and pummeled him into a chunky paste with it.

When Scar had the consistency of peanut butter, she stood up and wiped her brow.

"Whew. The Italians save us once again," she said grimly, and sheathed the baguette. Then, she turned, and ran hell for leather down the side of the mountain to the valley below.

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_**A/N:** There is this globe, see. This globe is a globe of Mars instead of Earth. It is geographically precise and everything. I wish for it with a fiery vehemence. _


	5. Unwanted Revelations

_**A/N:** "Pull out a lucifer, to light my fag." A phrase I found. Lucifer, though is more widely known as the fallen angel, is a fairly common name for matches. Fag, short for fagot, is a cigarette. _

_**Disclaimer:** Full Metal Alchemist (Hagane No Renkinjitsu) is copywrite Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix Co,. LTD, Funimation, Aniplex, BONES and MBS, and is not the respective property of MoonDeity or any of her aliases. _

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo 

Chapter V: 

Revelations

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Edward and Csara were headed on the long dirt road to the Rockbell house deep in the rural hills of Resembool. Csara, who was complaining how her poor slender legs hurt, was actually on Ed's back, and the poor diminutive alchemist had to carry her piggy-back through the country, a feat that would've been far easier if Csara's breasts were smaller. Alas.

Now, as they were trudging along, or, if we want to be subjectively correct, Ed was trudging along, they encountered a rather ugly looking object lying on the side of the road. Ed paused to look at it, and felt his eyelids start to smoke from its ugly.

Boy, was this thing repulsive.

It was all red, and in a shell that looked like a clam, and appeared to be peeling from sunburn. It also was excreting substances that no one needed to know their chemical make up. It kind of reminded Ed of his kissing.

As Ed appraised this repugnant stink of an object, the thing spoke to him in a voice that sounded like the flopping of eels in a bucket.

"Hey," it rasped. "Wassup?"

Ed reeled back from surprise, and nearly dropped Csara, who was catching up on her required 20 hours of beauty sleep.

"Leaping Aristotle, you can talk!"

"'Course I can talk," it replied, its various organelles flopping on the dirt. "I'm a Jedi."

"A Jedi…" Ed raised an eyebrow.

"Damn straight." The thing raised up what appeared to be a…small purple lightsaber. "Jedi Knight."

"That's….great." Ed shifted his cargo, and an awkward silence followed. "Well, I'll be going now."

"May the force be with you," replied the clam-ish, rank, slimy thing. "Oh, and Ed…"

"Yeah…?"

"I…am your father…."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

At the Central Railroad Station, it was noon, and as usual, the platforms were packed with various people boarding and dismounting the steam trains. There was a cheerful hustle and bustle paired with the clatter of steam engines and the steady rush of voices and bodies accompanied it.

"HELLISH OBDURATE WATER NYMPHS, MOVE YOUR FAT ASS!"

Except for that not-so steady body over there. A young woman who had just stepped off the train, auburn hair yanked into a bun, pale skin shining in the sunlight, shrieking at the top of her lungs at a rather portly gentlemen and attracting the attention of half of the station.

"E-excuse, me, young lady, did you ju—"

"DON'T GIVE ME YOUR BOMBASTIC OVERDONE BUREAUCRATESE!" the young woman was screaming at the top of her lungs and shaking her finger in the man's face. "YOU FRIGGING HEARD WHAT I SAID, NOW YOU EITHER MOVE YOUR STATE-WIDTH BUTT OR I'M KICKING IT OFF THIS PLATFORM AND STRAIGHT INTO SPACE! AT LEAST THERE YOU'LL ATTRACT THE ORBIT OF OTHER PLANETS!"

And with that, she grabbed her suitcase, swung it into the man, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying across the platform, and stomped off with fire coming out of her ears.

"First she calls me at two jacking o'clock in the morning with a ticket to go to Amestris, then she forces me to obligingly wear these unprepossessing…"

She plucked at the Amestrian style short jacket and skirt.

"…_garments,_ fires my Medean chain from a cannon, and now here I am, in this abysmal train station where everyone apparently can't keep their fat friggin fingers out of a curly fries container. I swear to Ast, I'm gonna swing them off the planet by their di—"

A hand on her shoulder stopped her frenzied walk and she whirled furiously around to face a military private.

"Oh," she spat. "What do YOU want?"

The military private stared down at this pale skinned, garnet-eyed brouhaha with lasers shooting from her gaze and suddenly thought that it was better to leave her alone.

"Uh…" he stuttered, stumbled over his speech, growing more nervous as the woman's countenance grew more furious. "I…I..just…uh…" He felt his bladder fail him and he sank to the ground with knees suddenly made of jelly. "I want my mommy…" he said, lower lip trembling.

"You frigging better want your mommy, you vacillating reprehensible Zamzummin," she snarled down at the trembling man. "I've seen more guts in a turkey on a Thanksgiving dinner table full of mobsters. You are an infamy, and if you touch me again, I can assure you that not only will you be so disfigured that no one will want to have intercourse with you, but you will have no means to masturbate with yourself ever again!"

And with that , she whirled around and stomped out of the station, leaving the members of the crowd to wonder how on earth she made a trained military soldier of the state weep like a 2-year old at recess.

Now, as this cantankerous young woman stomped out into the sunshine, she set down her suitcase and peeled off the outer layer of Amestrian clothes to reveal a strapless emerald dress, intricately embroidered.

She threw her old clothes on the windshield of a passing bus full of orphans and pulled on a pair of fingerless black velvet gloves reaching up her arms and past her elbows. From her pocket, she took a long gold chain on which hung beads and charms, in the center was a staff of Adad symbol, or fixed star (an X with a line down its middle), and twisted it around her left hand.

"Marvelous to be in character again," she said, holding up her hands and smirking. "I'm starting to feel cocky."

She picked up her case and headed down the causeway, to the north.

This woman is an Enchantress.

We call her Evadne.

Don't get on her bad side.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back in Resembool, Edward was exceedingly confused. Here he was, sitting at the Rockbell's kitchen table, located in the Rockbell's **kitchen** (gasp!), a sunburned clam-thing/father sitting next to him and smoking a fagot, with his fiancée Csara and mechanic Winry having a screaming contest over at the other end of the room.

Actually, to be more unambiguous, CSARA was screaming at Winry, and the mechanic was just standing there.

"Oh, so you think you can steal MY Edward away from me? A smelly, ugly little grease-covered thing like you!"

"I'm not thinking that," Winry replied calmly. "Do I know you?"

"Oh, so you ARE in love with Edward! Well, he sure as hell doesn't love you back, not when you go slutting around in a belly-shirt like that!"

This was going on ever since Winry opened the door and Csara found out that Ed had a female accomplice. The sunburned clam, which technically should be named Hoenheim, answered no questions about his identity, and was apparently stoned out of his mind as Ed sat there cluelessly.

"My belly-shirt? Um, look whose talking, Godiva," Winry gestured at Csara's gaping cleavage. The Mary Sue reeled back with mock horror.

"OH! You did not! I see how it is! You're jealous that Ed is in love with ME instead of YOU!"

"Arrr," the Hoenheim-clam commented. "Da sea-sirens be a-screaming enough to raise a thousand gales from da west."

Ed looked at his father.

"I thought you were supposed to be a Jedi."

"ARRR! YE DO NOT QUESTION THE WISDOM OF DE CAPTAIN, LANDLUBBER!"

"I'm not jealous. I don't know where you got the idea that I'm in love with ED," said Winry, staring in fascination at the supercilious nymphomaniac.

"Well, you obviously are if you spend so much time with him! Little miss 'good friends!'"

"Not really…" Winry trailed off as Ed's voice cut through the throng of conversation.

"Wait, if you're a clam-ish thing, how did you conceive me and Al?" he asked.

"Arrr…the tale begins many winters ago with a Spanish galley and a mutiny not fit to see the light of day…" …the Hoenheim clam grew softer and Winry continued her sentence.

"See, I'm only friends with him because he had the best cookies in his lunch at preschool," she explained.

"Now he's pretty much our only source of income. I kinda make flaws in his automail so we rack up profits and put the blame on his overactive lifestyle."

Csara stared, the idea not tunneling its way through her head.

"Plus, he's fun to throw wrenches at."

To illustrate her point, Winry chose her hardest wrench and flung it at Ed. It cuffed him on the side of his head, knocking him off his chair. The Hoenheim-clam now had a hand-hook and bandana.

Winry turned back to Csara.

"See?"

Csara's eye was twitching. A _girl_ not jealous of _her_ relationships? Illogical and mind-blowing in every way!

"You see…." Winry crossed over to the room, stepped on Ed, and retrieved her wrench. Hoenheim-clam had unfathomably obtained a minute pirate hat.

"This wrench is the only one I love. We…we…we have something special…" Winry started to sniff, then she bawled and started to furiously make out with the tool.

"OH, WRENCH, TAKE ME, TAKE ME PLEASE!"

Csara stepped back, sweat-dropped, then grabbed Ed by his braid and ran like a shot from the house, through the countryside, and onto the train where she promptly sat on Ed's lap and made him tell her how pretty she was for the rest of the trip back to Central.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"….so that's the secret of life," Alphonse said with wonder. "I guess I'd better stock up on weed-killer, then"

He and Dru, sitting at the exact same table as before, only littered with coffee cups and scone wrappers knee-deep, for they had not moved for five hours.

"Yup," said Dru, downing her 224th cup of coffee. "And if you're smart, tacky glue too."

Alphonse sighed, and read back two paragraphs from this sentence.

"FIVE HOURS?" he screamed out loud. "Oh, no, I have to find my brother!"

"The one who's in the clutches of that horrible Mary Sue?" asked Dru.

Alphonse nodded.

"Oh, these situations are so confusing," he whined. "First he's in love with Winry, then its Roy, then Winry, then ME, and then Envy! I just don't understand. I hope he doesn't lose his virginity, or something."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Dru said casually. "Edward Elric is asexual."

Alphonse stopped in mid-spaz-out.

"What?"

"Yes…" Dru smiled benignly. "Soon, the Fullmetal Alchemist will undergo mitosis, splitting his nucleus and genetic information, and sprout--"

--Alphonse's lower eyelid began to twitch--

"--long trailing stolans from which independent genetically identical organisms will break off from, much like the reproduction found common in vegetation, mold, sponges, water hydra, and certain types of garden snails."

"MY LIFE HURTS!" Alphonse screamed and rolled around on the floor clutching his head in pain.

"I'm sorry," Dru said placidly, in a way that made you wonder why she wasn't hyper from all the sugar.

She waited about 40 minutes for Alphonse to finish his little tirade, after which he stood up looking rather disheveled with coffee lids and sugar packets stuck in his hair.

"Alright?"

"Yeah…" Al scratched the back of his neck. "At least we don't have to worry about the Mary Sue now."

"Quite."

"So…." Al fidgeted. "Whaddaya want to do now?"

"Mmm….want to make out?"

"Hell yes."

And with that, Al grabbed Dru by her shoulders, swung her up and slammed her down on the top of the table, the descended upon her lips to grasp her tongue with his in the most perfectly professionally executed wriggly French kiss in all of history.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**A/N:** :casually reading etymology: Hey, Evadne, light my fag. _

_**Evadne:** Hey, Malleri, stick a lighter up your butt and go play in a petrol rig. _

_**Dru:** PETROL BOY! _

_**A/N:** Lucifer and fags are interrelated. Hell and homosexuals. Oh, what a shrewd theocracy we have dominating our society. _

_**Cyn:** :;holding a sign and a megaphone:_ MOONDEITY IS AWARE OF THE HYPOCRICY!


	6. The Conjoining

_**A/N:** "We haven't had any tea for a week. The bottom is out of the universe." _

_--R. Kipling_

_**Disclaimer:** Full Metal Alchemist (Hagane No Renkinjitsu) is copywrite Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix Co,. LTD, Funimation, Aniplex, BONES and MBS, and is not the respective property of MoonDeity or any of her aliases. _

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo 

Chapter VI: 

Conjoining 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Cough,…cough…hack, GAG, BLAAEAGHHUAHHH!"

Heads turned toward the source of the disgusting sound, and were rewarded with the scene of a young woman with inky black skin and silver hair clasping her throat and coughing out her extra-terrestrial lungs.

"IRKSOME REPUGNANT EARTH AIR!"

Cyn snapped on a mask inlayed with lead and nitrogen and moved through the slightly weirded out Amestrian crowd. Having descended from the mountain after almost getting raped by Scar, Cyn found the air of the Amestrians horribly clean, pure, and oxygen filled.

Now she was in Central and dearly missing her cherished carbon monoxide atmosphere and dry ice climate temperature.

"I swear to Belldandy, if this wasn't for the obliteration of a Mary Sue, I SO would be back at Olympus Mons riding my tripod across the desert. Niggling yob…"

She sighed and stamped down her boot, stopping in the middle of the street.

"Alright," she said. "Here we are. The entrance to the bloody park. Filled with…" her eye twitched. "Vindictive oxygen-spewing **_trees."_** She spat the last word as if it was a glob of Nebraska beef jerky.

Holding her breath, Cyn closed her dark eyes and passed through the archway leading into the park. After the rainstorm, it was wonderfully fresh, beautiful, clean, birds were singing, and people were chattering amiably as they strolled down the glistening paths.

Cyn was wishing that a mountain would drop on her and end it all.

Half crawling, half walking, she made her way over to a circle of trees and dropped with a plop on the wet ground.

After a short time, leaves crackled, dark boots made moist imprints in the saturated ground, and Evadne approached the Martian woman disinterestedly holding a black umbrella.

"I brought you your nitrogen breather, slipshod little yegg of a space invader," she said, tossing over a black capsule shaped object and hitting Cyn in the forehead. She snatched it up and inserted it in the back of her black mouth, silver eyes brightening as the mechanical device translated the oxygen into a nice mix of sulfur and other noxious gasses.

"Bloody frig, I feel so much better!" she cried, stretching her arms.

Evadne narrowed her eyes.

"Does it look like I have an interest? No, now where the shimmy is Dru, she should be here. Where did you teleport her anyway? And NEVER make me wear those rudimentary clothes again. They made me look like a virgin English teacher."

Cyn, who wasn't listening, said arbitrarily, "Hey, do all men who live on mountains attempt to rape you through your spine? Because a really imprudent one just did, like five minutes ago before I enigmatically appeared on the Central streets."

Evadne sighed, gaining control of herself.

"I don't know. I don't care. Where. Is. Dru."

"What I want to know…" Cyn frowned at an adorable chipmunk making its way across the forest floor and disintegrated it brusquely with her ray gun. "…is where are the guys I called from LEW?"

Evadne raised an eyebrow.

"Why'd you…?" then a little light bulb clicked on above her. "Wait…you didn't…you didn't call…who I thought you called…?"

As if an answer, a dime fell out of the sky, hit Evadne on the top of her head, and went down her shirt.

"Shit."

The wind began to pick up, and somewhere in the distance, trumpets picked up a tempo playing in G major, and bassoons chimed in allegro. In front of Cyn and Evadne, in a shower of glittering, shimmering, dimes that whirled around in two mini tornados….

…cleared out and there stood two incredibly short men with disarming smiles on their faces.

They were identical in every way, to their spiky hair, the gold earrings in their right lobe, to the socks on their feet and caricature wings sprouting from their backs. They stood casually with their hands in their pockets, smiling eerily, not moving at all.

Evadne sweatdropped.

Cyn tore apart another adorable rodent.

And in a flash, the one and only Random Object Faeries leapt upon the two woman and immodestly started groping their butts and breasts with a dynamism incomparable in zest to Semiramis, Cleopatra, or Messalina.

"SANCTIFIED MONGOLIAN DRYADS! GET **OFF!" **

A blast from Evadne's magical chain cleared them off the two women. The twins flipped around in the air and fluttered comically before them, slightly singed.

"Now, now, Evadne…" they spoke together as if they were Siamese. "There's nothing wrong with a friendly greeting!"

Evadne completely ignored them and started to beat up Cyn.

"WHY'D YOU CALL THEM! EVERY SKUNKING VISIT FROM JIM AND JAMES IS INSUFFERABLE! WE EITHER END UP GETTING RAPED, GROPED, OR WRONGFULLY SUCKED IN CARNAL PLACES! I'M GONNA BUTCHER YOU, MARTIAN!"

"Oi, what's going on?"

Alphonse and Dru appeared in the clearing. Al was looking disheveled but extremely happy, and Dru was sucking on the lapel of a fleece jacket Al had given her, holding him by the wrist and struggling to put her arm through the sleeve.

Cyn and Evadne stopped in mid-tussle, Evadne having a fistful of Cyn's hair and Cyn pressing up against Evadne's face in self-defense.

"'Ey, what'd I tell yah, insensate magician," Cyn said to Evadne. "She'd be here in no time!"

"You never told me that," Evadne said taxingly. "And if you call me insensate again I'm wrenching your head from your neck. Dru, where have you be—"

But Evadne didn't get time to finish, as Jim and James knocked her into a tree and bounced over to Dru, arms reaching out and fingers in groping mode…and Dru and Alphonse easily sidestepped them and they flew right past, across the pathway, and into a nest of hobos.

"Eh…eh….uhn…"

Dru flapped her arm pathetically, let go of Alphonse's wrist, and began wrestling with the jacket.

"Here, baby, let me do…" Alphonse reached out, but Dru waved the sleeve at him.

"Nuuu, nuu, lemme do it, LEMME DO IT, I wanna do it!" And with that, she twisted around, tangled the sleeves only further, and fell with a thud to the grassy floor where she writhed around, kicking her feet up in the air, flopping about as she tried to get herself detached from the suffocating grip of fleece.

Alphonse, Evadne, and Cyn stood inexpressively over her while Jim and James were being ripped apart over to the right by nefarious hobo botanists.

"I see Dru hasn't changed," Cyn commented to Al after about 30 minutes of watching Dru confuse herself. "Why was she holding you by the wrist instead of the hand?"

Alphonse shrugged sheepishly, saying, "She won't hold my hand. She likes my wrists better. She claims they have an amusing texture and pretty blue veins."

"Ah."

The trio watched Dru writhe for a few more minutes before Evadne commented,

"Hey, aren't we supposed to be doing something?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ed and Csara stepped off the train and into the fresh air of Central, after their botched and deeply confusing trip to Resembool.

"I've got no idea why we even went there in the first place," Ed commented as he held Csara's hand and walked down the street. "We pretty much wasted, like, 48 hours of our lives right there."

"Mmm," Csara commented, too interested in a budding prospect for ardor and lust. "Hey, Ed, take me into the park!"

"OKAY!" Ed shouted, and sprinted down the sidewalk and into the very park that encompassed our group of very kaleidoscopic Mary Sue exterminators.

They walked serenely down the path underneath the slick trees, branches hanging heavy with rainwater. They stopped underneath a dripping pear tree, full in bloom, flowery boughs hanging down to encase the pair in a very sappy and shoujo-ish nest.

"Csara…" Ed said, taking her hands in his, eyes glimmering and staring deeply into her own exquisite orbs. "I just want to you to know that I love you no matter what, and you're the most beautiful, delicate, refined, flawless thing in the universe."

Crappy crack-Mozart was starting to play in the background.

"Oh, Ed…" Csara smiled. "I know…"

Ed parted his lips and leaned forward, Csara closed her eyes and ascended…

…and it all _SLOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWEEEEED _down.

Oh, yeah.

Here we go again.

Now, as you keen lot already know, wherever there is the magical slow-mo, the fantastic guy of slow-mo resiliency will probably appear.

Well, there he is three feet away from Edward and Csara, holding a leash and watching his dog take an exceptionally slow crap.

He looked up, turned his head around to view the world, and thought, _Aw, shiz, here we go again. _

This has to be getting very annoying for him, happening twice in one week. And naturally he would have a bit of trepidation, for the last time this happened, he freaking cracked his nose open on the sidewalk. And having learned from his mistakes, he elected to stay in the same spot until the world sped up again and all was well.

Well…this didn't really work out.

Standing in the same spot as a Mary Sue slow-moed was going to get very boring. Especially one like Csara, who can't stand being out of the spotlight for more than thirty seconds at a time.

So he was standing there, watching his beagle take his agonizingly indolent shit. Watching poo slide out the butt of his dog was disturbing at first. Very disturbing.

But after watching it for an hour or couple, the guy began to realize many long-asked questions dwelling on the palate of humanity for centuries. Simply by watching the anal rectum in action, he dawned upon answers to the meaning of life, the fate of the universe, the meaning of peace.

Pretty amazing for a carnal function whose name induces sporadic giggling among first-graders.

Now, after a couple dozen more hours of not moving and time not changing, he thought how pointless it was, and left the park to get a doughnut, watch a historical documentary, re-arrange his bathroom tiles, write a book on the meaning of life, wrestle an alligator, excavate Troy, have lunch in Atlantis, buy a pair of suspenders, learn where cinnamon comes from, eat a burrito on top of a Japanese bus, get his butt stuck in a trash can, locate the legendary Flying Stick, steal a politician's pants, discover the Fountain of Youth in an Alabama gas station, pollute the Orinoco and grow an herb garden.

After all that, he returned to the park and discovered things still had not changed.

Just when he felt like tearing his hair out and blowing up whoever wrote him into the story, he heard voices.

"Ah-hah! See that, Evadne! Disconcerting anal dawdle in the time-space continuoum! Told ya they'd be in this exact place!"

"Um, yeah, when did you notice that, Cicero? Only's been going on ad infinitum about this place. They're over there, by the way."

To the guy's shock, a troupe of fantastically weird people stepped into the clearing. One was a woman with shock-black skin and silver hair. Another female was clothed in a fantastical gown, pale as the moon. There were two short men with butterfly wings and socks on their feet, a normal looking boy with short cut hair, and a young lady clad in leather impossibly tangled in a jacket. He quickly hid behind a tree.

"Dru, how the hell did you **_braid_** that jacket?" asked the dark-skinned woman, turning to the leather-clad girl. Dru blinked densely, squirmed inside the twisted mess, and looked up with a pouty look on her face.

"Ach, never mind. Here they are."

The troupe stopped, and the young man shouted, "BROTHER!"

"Damn, that's the Mary Sue," said the pale skinned woman. "One of the worst I've seen so far." She spat with antipathy on the scantily clad woman kissing a rather short character in red. "Whose got the Clicker?"

"DRU'S GOT THE CLICKIE!" Dru shrieked, and, twisting around in her coat, which had gotten to resemble a straightjacket, produced a small key-chained thing that looked like a Tamagotchi. It reminded the man that he'd forgotten to feed his today.

"Thanks, illeist," the pale skinned woman said sarcastically, catching the keychain. She clicked it, there was an ear-piercing **BEEP**, and the entire world caught up at once.

The dog's poop fell out of his butt, and Csara, who was caught totally off guard, fell onto Ed, knocking him and her onto the ground and drowning his face in her boobs. Csara jumped up from the Fullmetal, incensed, and looking around wildly.

"Who…why…WHAT!"

The pale-skinned woman smiled, twirling the Clicker around her index finger.

"Hi, toots," she said deviously. "How'd you like your first taste of the Mary-Sue-Slow-Mo-Eliminator? Also called the Clicker, but choose whichever foil you want. The effect is all the same."

She stepped forward from the circle, approaching the bamboozled histrionic airhead.

"My name's Evadne," she said, placing her fingers on her chest. "And I'm one of the lucky folks who gets to kick your maudlin ass into space!"

"I'M AN OCCULT TRADITION!" Dru shrieked randomly, completely spoiling the moment and sullying the coolness.

Evadne looked as if she was about to commit arsony.

The black-skinned woman was oblivious.

The shorthaired man sweat dropped.

Ed was knocked out.

Csara was lost.

And the two winged men broke the standstill by lunging together at   
Csara's bosom, grasping onto one breast each, and swinging on them as if they were tire-swings.

Evadne lunged at Dru, threw her golden chain around her neck, and commenced to strangle her as the shorthaired man tried fruitlessly to stop her.

"YOU CHURLISH ABSTRACT JABBERWOCKY! WHAT IS **_WRONG_** WITH YOU! YOU ARE A THREAT TO THIS MISSION AND A SHAME TO OUR COUNTRY!"

"Yaaaahhh! Boobsboobsboobsboobsboobies!"

"MULISH LITTLE HERPE!"

"Boobiesboobiesboobiesboobies…"

"ARBITRARY GRATING SIN!"

"Boobiesboobiesboobiesboobiesboobies…."

"YANKING GALLING UGMO!"

STOP!

This time, everything stopped at the sound of the author's voice. Except the guy, who walked out from behind the tree and into the frozen clearing.

Oh, piss on a log, why aren't you frozen?

The author sighed. The guy stared up into nowhere.

Great. My characters won't freeze when I tell them, and this fic is spiraling out of control. I mean, who ARE you? We have a Martian, an Enchantress, and an Alchemist who is tangled up in her fleece jacket, and two men with wings.

"Perhaps because your characters and plot has taken on a mutated intelligent life force, indigenous to most crack fics."

Great. So who are you?

"Well, I started out as a humorous interlude to the Mary Sue's annoying habit of slow-mo, but became a folio character to the perpetual insanity of most of the characters you have interacting in this fanfiction."

That's a very interesting concept. I should give you a name.

"No, no, awarding me identification will only eliminate my annul role."

Prudently said. Now, tell me, what should I do with this fic?

"If you ask me," said the guy. "Just let this unremitting mentality go on. Yet reign in control a bit, of course, risking the characters pummeling you in later times."

Good plan.

"Can the world start up again? I'm getting a bit sick of all the stopping. Oh, and put on some Franz Ferdinand. It's a unusually first-rate morale lift."

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When the world began yet again (boy, the gods must be pissed at all the delays), Cyn found herself standing behind Csara, Evadne on the ground, and Dru ejected from the asphyxiate jacket.

"Hoi," Evadne got up and dusted herself off. Alphonse blinked, looked around, and smiled when he located Dru. Jim and James were tied to a nearby oak, and the guy was nowhere in sight.

Edward Elric snapped to attention and screamed when he saw Alphonse. Then, he looked behind him, and screamed when he saw Cyn. Whirled around, looked at Jim and James, screamed. Then Evadne, who was positively shooting daggers at him, screamed girlishly one last time, and fell to the ground in a faint like a Catholic choirboy in a butcher's shop.

"Well, that didn't take long."

Evadne stared at Csara.

"Oh, yeah, the introduction."

The Mary Sue was fumigating and pointed her perfectly manicured fingernail at Evadne, who was looking bored.

"YOU! YOU DARE COME IN HERE AND RUIN MY PLA—"

"Look, Lapargeria," Evadne quipped. "I'm in no mood to squabble with you about your hypocritical outlooks. Let's just get one thing straight: I'm here to eradicate your prostrate skank-ass from this undeserving earth."

Dru snickered at Cyn who was making faces behind Csara, saying silently, "K fa? K fa?"

"Needless to say, you're not exactly the shibby of society," Cyn said smugly, lowering her hands. "Not only are you a writer's shame, but you're humanity's shame, and aren't really deserving to be called human."

"Oh, you are so crossing the line!" Csara said huffily in a way that made you want to break her voice from her neck. "Who made you boss of everything?"

"Isis and Paul Bunyan did," chimed in Jim and James from the tree they were currently humping.

"Dru came in, but kinda ended up making out with the alchemist brother with the fluffy hair," Dru said sheepishly, jerking her thumb towards Alphonse.

"Yeah, thanks for adding that detrimental hypocrisy to this fic," Cyn said sarcastically. "Which reminds me, you can't be with Alphonse anymore."

Dru looked at Cyn cluelessly.

"Don't give me the 'whatchooo talkin' 'bout?' look. In order to salvage Malleri's reputation from the shameful shackles of hypocrisy, you are not allowed to be paired with Alphonse, as it implies the Mary Sueness that we are contracted to destroy."

"But...but…it was Al's first kiss…" tears were welling up in Dru's eyes.

"Sorry, sis, but even though that kiss was meant to provide a contrast between Al's kissing and his brother's substandard attempts, we cannot risk the Mary Sue virus dancing about this world. Now leave him, or I will be forced to kill you, and that's not good, as you are one of Malleri's favorites."

"But…but…" Dru looked like a small child whose favorite candy had just been taken away from her.

"No "buts" damnit! The reviewers might be able to salvage this to the very inklings of long-distance relationship, but until then, back away from the Alphonse, come across to the opposite end of the clearing, and don't look at each other."

Hanging her head, Dru dropped her hands and walked silently to the other end of the clearing, sat facing a large tree, and was immersed in a murky little pocket of despair from which an occasional sniffle could be heard.

Cyn turned back to Csara with a wicked grin on her face. "Now…"

From underneath her robes, she pulled out a rather large and ominous looking rifle blaster. Her grin widened.

"Meet the implosion ray. Mars' finest tech, guaranteed to make your very atoms collapse inward. Fun, fun, eh?" she gestured with it toward Evadne.

"Now, Mary Sue, listen carefully. You can either spend an afternoon with Blasty here and my tripod, experiencing the excruciating slowness of an expert in Martian torture. That can be one way to die. Or, you can spend it with a goaded intolerant Enchantress with enough blasts in her magic chain to raze an entire island into the sea. Or…"

She pointed to Jim and James, in the process of reducing a healthy tree to mulch and kindling.

"…you can spend it with Jim and James, the most horny, perverted twins on the planet earth. When they're done with you, you'll have had your fill of any sort of lewd for the rest of your frigging life. And that's only after the first hour. A most ostracized way to go."

She swung around to Dru, who was still enfolded in her corner of despondency.

"And then there's Dru. Dru, we should warn you, is oblivious to normal human skills such as crossing the street when there are no cars and the theory of gravity. You will most likely have to hang out with her longer than anyone on earth wants to. Have fun meeting a bitter end at the bottom of her pit of squid testicles."

Cyn turned back to the visibly frightened Csara with a smirk on her face. Evadne fiddled with her magical chain.

"Now that you've seen all the candidates, please, ta—"

"Oh, for the sake of shag, let's cut the legalese and KOS this jix," Evadne interrupted.

"Oookaay, but I still think it'd be entertaining to see her get confused…"

"WHATEVER! No one is concerned about the way she dies, as long as she does."

Evadne began advancing on the frozen Csara, left hand glowing.

"As they say in Rome, _Sic Semper Tyrannis_…thus always to tyrants…."

"WAIT!"

All heads snapped around to the edge of the clearing, where, as thunder and lightening crackled in portentous cliché, a hulking figure in a trench coat, head bowed, loomed over the figures in the clearing, radiating a sense of mystery and sublime horror. He raised his head up, eyes burning out from the darkness his hair created, and said in an archaic voice,

"Stop your hand, woman. The Mary Sue…is MINE."

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_**A/N:** B Kool, bag your tool, kiddies._


	7. The Phantom of the Author

_**A/N:** I just realized that this fic gives no attention to the FMA characters whatsoever. _

_**Disclaimer:** Full Metal Alchemist (Hagane No Renkinjitsu) is copywrite Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix Co., LTD, Funimation, Aniplex, BONES, and MBS, and is not the respective property of MoonDeity or any of her aliases. _

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Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo 

Chapter VII 

The Phantom of the Author

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No sooner had he spoke those words that a special-effects crew member tripped backstage, got his foot caught on the cord controlling the cool shadowy effect over this furtive person's face and whisked it away.

"Well, damn…" they said sadly. All gaped stupidly.

"It's…it's…" Evadne pointed a quivering finger. "It's…"

"IT'S RAY BRADBURY!" Cyn shouted happily, and, knocking over Csara, bounded over and latched onto the author's leg. He shook her fruitlessly as she clung to his leg like a small child, hopped around, waving his arms.

"Get off, you absurd woman!" he yelled, and with his mighty powers of visual descriptions, knocked her off and into the mud. Cyn sat huddled with happiness in the aura of the writer.

"Ohhemgee, you are the illustrious novelist who wrote about my kind!" she explained. "Except you made our skin too light. And we don't have six fingers. And our names aren't letters of the alphabet. And…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, put a sock in it." Ray Bradbury gestured over his shoulder with a jerk of his thumb. "I've brought reinforcements."

And over the hill coming like a holy tidal wave of literary splendor, came pouring a massive crowd of authors, journalists, etymologists, and reviewers all screaming cold blood-lust for the destruction of the Mary Sue.

There was Halcyon Azimine and AuroranWings and BlondeHurricane, with Halcyon wielding his fêted Baka Hammer, NinjaAlchemist was also there, ready to counter his wicked ninja skills against the Sue with equally wicked alchemy skills, as were Jett and Shizu. Alexandre Dumas and John Knowles and Charles Dickens and Pearl Buck equally swept up, waving their quills and pens in radical dissent.

They all formed behind Ray Bradbury, grumbling and murmuring adjectives and literary devices. Evadne dropped to her knees.

"Holy crap…" she muttered. "Cyn, did you call these people…?"

Cyn didn't answer, for she was off in a corner accosting H.G. Wells, clinging from his belt buckle and babbling animatedly about tripods.

Evadne shook her head and was about to hit her with a crankshaft when a whistle from the northwest caught her attention.

An informal…_hickish_ whistle.

Yes, indeed, from the caverns of a plot twist, up a hill, shining fiercely against the sun, was the corn trucker.

And behind him was the entire population of Indiana.

"She's right there, y'all!" he shouted, and charged down the hill. Akin to the way the writers poured down the hill, the Hoosiers stampeded down their hill in a giant mob of calico and denim, waving corncobs and stump hole whiskey angrily. Some were driving tractors.

They gathered like a red neck puddle to the left of the writer's mob, glaring out from underneath their hunting caps.

"Now see what y'all did by hurtin' the corn?" said the corn trucker, waving a corncob in the vividly petrified Csara's face.

"Great grammar," commented J.K. Rowling from the over on the author's side.

"Why, thank ya missy," said the corn trucker, pushing his hat up his forehead with his thumb.

Anne Rice was about to say something, but the exultant blare of trumpets from behind Csara caught everyone's attention. And all the way from a sea of olive oil and wine, in glorious peninsula glory…

…the Praetorian Guard of ancient Rome crashed through the trees. At there head was none other than the Hoenheim-clam, not as a Jedi or a pirate, but wearing a toga and a laurel crown, dressed up as a Roman emperor.

"_In vino veritas,"_ he declared in fluent Latin. "_Sic Semper Tyrannis!"_

"Amen!"

Winry's voice came, and a Praetorian guard led a lovely chestnut horse from around the mass of Romans. The automail mechanic sat astride in a lacy wedding gown. In the crook of her arm was none other than the groom, the wrench, donning a charming black bow tie and top hat.

She nodded to Alphonse and gestured over her shoulder.

"We also brought the thinkers of Rome! Dante Alighieri thought it was a good idea."

Moving in ordered fashion came Virgil, Catullus, Cato, Cicero, Ennius, Horace, Juvenal, Livy, Carus, Ovid, Phaedrus, Tacitus, Seneca, Sallust, and the elder and younger Plinys, The formed a row in front of the Praetorian guard, crossing their arms and frowning with no-nonsense Latin exteriors. Virgil gave a discreet thumbs-up to Dante over in the writer's section.

She turned to Evadne and smiled.

"What? We all wanted a little slice of whoop-ass."

"Don't forget about us!"

Running from the east came Alex, Paul, Bob, and Nick of Franz Ferdinand.

"Sorry," Alex panted. "But with so many references to us in this fic, we couldn't help but be included in the climax."

Upon sighting her favorite band, Cyn gave a little squeal, released H.G Wells, and bounded over snuggling onto Paul's torso. Evadne raised an eyebrow, looking around at everyone.

"Well…is this everyone?"

The multitude of diversity nodded as one hateful mass.

"We're sick of her and her snobbish tit-tat!" exclaimed the corn trucker and his mass of Hoosiers.

"She brings bigoted ignominy onto our craft of creating illusory persons!" said the authors with their mad synonym skills.

"She wrongfully accused me of being a slut!" said Winry, looking up from kissing her husband's cold steel exterior.

"_Non sequitur,"_ chanted the Hoenhiem-clam, the Praetorian Guard, and the poets as a whole.

Everyone turned to look at Franz Ferdinand.

"Uhh…what?"

Everyone executed ground-shaking face faults, snapped back up to their feet, quickly recovered, raised their assorted weaponry, took one step toward Csara, when…

"I HAVE FRIED EGGS IN MY PANTS!" screamed Dru, who had apparently recovered.

_THUMP. _A large leather-bound etymology book came down squarely on the back of Dru's head, and the young woman fell over, flopping slightly on the ground, unconscious. Cyn smiled, and handed the book back to Robert Frost.

"Sorry for that, everyone," she said lightly. She then whipped out her large and badass implosion ray with a smile to beat Satan. **"Let's do it."**

Looking around at the horribly mad Hoosiers, viewing the angry faces of Yunaberrie and J.R.R Tolkein, the legions of pissed off Romans, that evil looking wrench, a sadistic Evadne grinning mordantly, Cyn in all her Martian glory, Jim and James twirling a dildo, Cato with a whip, Paul and Bob unsheathing guitars and drum sticks, one thought crossed Csara's mind several hours too late:

"I should run."

But there was no time for the thought to get down to her legs, for in an unleashed wave of wrath, like the Red Sea closing up, the surrounding mob charged forward with a scream fit to soothe the souls of all furies:

"**_GET HER!_**"

And in a rainbow of human mass they leaped on her, and what happened next was nothing short of an all out no-holds bashing dust-kicking orgy of violence.

Halcyon's Baka Hammer swung through the air and with one hand he sporadically fired his AK-47 into the air, and Sailor N whacked random things with the N Rod.

Brian Jacques, Herman Melville, C.S. Lewis and Emily Dickenson shot conjunctions, stabbed with quills, threw dictionaries, as Dan Brown and Roald Dahl and William Blake whipped with craftily formed metaphors and inlayed symbolism.

Whisky, car tires, and flaming corn whizzed through the air as the Hoosiers accosted with southern accents and soybeans. Franz Ferdinand swung through the crowd with guitar strings, harmonies, and melodies as they played their newest hit "Fallen."

Cyn was imploding spastically as Evadne disintegrated everything with one touch of her magic. The Praetorian Guard was in tortoise-formation, as the Hoenheim-emperor-clam called orders in Latin whilst the poets attacked with ancient philosophy, unstoppable bottles of olive oil, and caused the Colluseum to appear in the sky and fall down _smack_ onto the Mary Sue. Through all this, the wrench circled gallantly, its adorable bow tie shining nobly in the sun.

As the carnage reached its peak, the earth buckled beneath the feet of the mob and the park fell in onto itself, trees and dust rising in a gigantic mushroom cloud documenting forever the world's distain with Mary Sues. It covered everything and rose 500 feet into the air, spiraling through with thick pillows of smoke.

When this dust cleared, all was quiet. The mob was standing shocked over what appeared to be Csara. But it wasn't.

Csara's cadaver resembled a balloon with air deflated from it. Bram Stoker poked it with a stick.

"Well, I'll be damned." Cyn toed her. "She had nothing inside her. She was shallow. All that existed was what lay on the outside."

Evadne walked up and stood next to Cyn.

"So are you saying we probably could've taken a pin and poked her anywhere, and she would've died."

"Yeah, pretty mu—_ACH!"_

Evadne clipped Cyn on the back of her black neck with a telephone pole, threw it to the side and abruptly jumped on the Martian and began wailing on her.

"WHY THE JIZ DIDN'T YOU KNOW THIS EARLIER? HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW MUCH **_TIME_** IT WOULD'VE FRIGGING **_SAVED_** ME! I LEFT IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ITALIAN OPERA TO GO SEND THIS LOUT TO HELL AND YOU'RE TELLING ME—"

The crowd slowly shuffled away from the Mary Sue, with murmurs of "Fuck, that was cool," and "Hm, I could really use a snickerdoodle." In the end, Alphonse was left standing there over the body of Ed.

The Fullmetal Alchemist's nose quivered, he opened his eyes slowly.

"Wha….? Al? Where am I…" he looked dully around. Al stood anxiously stared at his older brother. Was he back to normal? Or was he still under the influence of Csara?

"WHY THE FUCKING HELL ARE THERE FUCKING FRIED EGGS IN MY PANTS? WHY AM I SITTING IN DOG SHIT? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON !$! ASS !$&! DAMN !#$$&$7&$ SHIT BUGGER COCK-WHALLOP SKANK ASS FRIG!"

Alphonse exhaled a sigh of relief and turned to a bloodstained Evadne. Ed was unleashing a more vivid diatribe down on the ground.

"Well, my ears sting," Al said happily. "Brother's back to normal."

"That's nice to hear," she said vaguely. "Here's your bill."

She handed a sock to Alphonse, upon which was written the expense for their extermination project:

_**One and a-half Olives**_

_**Seven Lobster-style necklace clasps**_

_**One Novelty Thimble **_

_**Four "Gel-in" Shoe Inserts**_

**_Five "Rip-n-Slip" Brush-Offs._**

Alphonse stared at this for a moment, then reached into his pocket and paid the Enchantress her dues.

"Great. Here's your receipt." She handed him half of a bullfrog, went over, and picked Cyn up by her ankles. She walked to the edge of the crater, stopped and waved.

"Thank you for using Mary Sue exterminators!" she called out. "Don't bother us again."

And with that, she turned and disappeared into the slowly setting sun.

**_Epilogue_**

The Mary Sue known as Isaura Naeva Csara Avari-Lluvia Chiali Efrosini Zitkalasa Akilina Avalbane was successfully decimated despite many obstacles and unwanted distractions. She arrived in the Realm at the feet of a very angry Trisha Elric, Egyptian lumberjack, and Maes Hughes.

After being chopped up, throttled with parental advice, and suffocated with pictures, Csara was damned to hell by Isis herself, who won the privilege off of King Hwan-In when she finally beat him in euchre (it was later discovered that she had cheated, and was sentenced to 30 days of not striking mortals with lightening as a punishment). Csara now serves as Lucifer's personal bitch.

Edward Elric accepted the fact that he was asexual and joined a mitosis support group comprised mainly of strawberry plants and sea sponges. He got a place of his own and spends his free time, when he's not working for the state, designing platform shoes. He was not allowed to use the Philosopher's Stone to regain his limbs, as the powers that be had taken a liking to Winry and wanted to keep her income stable.

Winry Rockbell changed her name to Winry Model DX-192 when she married her wrench. She lives in Resembool with her husband co-owning the automail business, and, though we never really will know how, is 2 months pregnant.

Alphonse Elric joined the State Alchemists and now leads a relatively normal life, but unnaturally rich now that he marketed his Kitty Mochas.

Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye were married in a fluffy ceremony during butterfly season in Mexico, and currently enjoy a passionate love life while sharing the same flat. They have root beer with Dante Alighieri once a week in the café where Al and Dru met.

Dru was never found after the killing climax of Csara was over. She resurfaced three and a half months later working as a manager of a Wal-Mart somewhere in Ohio, memory completely lost. Fortunately, it was quickly regained with a swift I-beam hit to the head, an action that Evadne expressed thanks for by plunging a rotary drill into Cyn's face.

Cyn returned to Mars and was delighted by her carbon monoxide air. She has regained her normal lifestyle of driving her tripod, rolling around in the red dust, disintegrating things, and plotting the downfall of the human race. However, she also has gained a gateway pass to Amestris, and their world can expect a few alien invasions in the future.

Evadne also returned with Dru to her parallel world, and fell easily into her lifestyle of killing and weekly genocides followed by heavy whiskey drinking "until her guts fall out."

The corn trucker and the Hoosiers returned to Indiana and sat on their porches and smoked their corncob pipes as they creaked away at their rocking chairs and talked about "that one time when we went tah kill that prissy gal?"

The authors and reviewers returned to their various places in the world, though not after reviewing this tediously worked on fic. Of course.

The guy of slow-mo resiliency was made an instant billionaire after his book sold. He spoke and traveled widely across the globe, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, the Pulitzer and the Goddamn-You're-A-Great-Guy Award. He now owns 33 mansions in exotic places across the world, all filled with topless harem hookers and lives off money dropped from jet airplanes.

The Hoenheim-clam-emperor-Jedi-pirate captain rode off in his chariot with the Romans not far behind. His whereabouts are currently unknown, although a police report did clarify that he is somewhere in Africa planning to annex the world's supply of Juicy Fruit.

In short, even though their lives were touched intimately and possibly inappropriately by the Mary Sue, no one was horribly scarred or lacerated. At least not that we can see. Because in the end, everyone lives happily ever after, even if it's not perfectly.

The End 

_**A/N:** :collapses on the ground, tongue out: Whoof. Demanding. But…fun. I really enjoyed writing this. And I hope you guys enjoyed reading this._

_**Cyn:** And hey, if you liked Malleri's work in FMA, you might want to put her on author alert. We're dabbling in a conception that's a sequel to this, which involves two-foot rivers, casserole dishes, and a parody of Dante Alighieri's The Inferno. STAY TUNED! _


End file.
